Last Laugh
by Aiwen L
Summary: Takes place in the Nolanverse, with other canon work crammed in for good measure. Collaboration with NCmentis of DA. Joker's Arkham doctor provided him with a means of escape and now he's using her to his advantage in the Bat situation as well.
1. Scar Tissue

He wore a permanent smile, raised scars stretching his lips over to his cheeks in a grin. But right now, he was smiling anyway. Though, by looks, the Joker's blue-grey Arkham uniform and unpainted face didn't do his moniker justice, that smile and those ever-piercing eyes made sure passersby knew who was behind that door.

Every day... for months he was behind that door. Lying, just as he was now, and waiting patiently. Waiting for her to come.  
It was Wednesday and she was never late for their appointments. Each week she became more interesting, more useful. Joke couldn't help but think today his lovely psychiatrists Harleen Quinzel would have a breakthrough with him.  
It was funny, really, how easily she was bending to his will without so much as a doubt. He had told her of his life the way he remembered it each day and it seemed to him like young miss Quinzel was too preoccupied with feeling mortified to notice the occasional discrepancies (such as the story about mommy and the Christmas present when only last week he had mentioned how mommy died long before that day). And if she was sorry for him and wanted to help him then by all means she should!  
Of course... His view of being "helped" included less pills and straitjackets in dark rooms and more freedom and facing Batman as the world slowly burned away. And he knew the girl would be terribly useful to him, oh yes; it wouldn't take much more to break her completely and he'd be busting out of Arkham as the other inmates were left to dwell in their insanity and self-pity.  
But The Joker was pulled out of his train of thought with the sound of a door being unlocked - the door to his cell, more precisely. He needn't look up; it was her, punctual as usual.  
He licked his lips before speaking. His mouth was dry, as it usually was nowadays.

"Good afternoon, doctor Quinzel." And it was a frightening sight, at the very least: the words had left his mouth before her figure was even fully visible and in spite of how casual his tone of voice may have seemed to him, to others he looked no less dangerous than he had proven to be in several occasions. And perhaps this was one of the more interesting things about Harleen Quinzel; she didn't seem nearly as frightened by him as almost every guard in the building did.  
Harleen smiled a bit.

"Evening," she replied, attempting to seem entirely composed. The truth was when she saw the supposed madman, her heart sped up. "Should we start off where we left last week then?" she asked, drawing a small notebook from her side pocket. She clicked the pen and tapped it lightly on the paper. And Batman was a vigilante and now, a criminal. And Joker wanted to stop him... Harleen saw more in Joker than everyone. He wasn't bad... No one was just _bad_.  
He smiled wider as she seemed to be going off into her head again, thinking about him. Then, he registered that her question should've brought a bit of sadness to his face. He frowned a little and dropped his eyelids.  
"Yeah Doc. I think I can share," he said with a little nod, pausing for dramatic affect as he sat up on his bed.  
"Do you remember where we left off?" Harleen asked with with an encouraging look; she had a small smile planted upon her lips and it grew just a little bit more once he nodded in approval. It must be painful for him to speak about his life... But she had come to realize that if he told her and not others then it was because she believed him and didn't treat him like trash. She actually believed he wasn't an empty shell of a man and it was by gaining what she believed was his trust that things worked out so well - and she couldn't be happier about it.  
"You see," Joker licked his lips once and shifted his gaze up towards one of the corners of the room. He didn't need much more time to come up with a story; they sort of came to his mind, different every day like actual memories. "When I was a teenage boy, there was this, this girl. She was really pretty. But she acted like I wasn't even there!" He raised his hands in slightly exaggerated movements; it was something normal for him, though. Much like the emphasis on some of the words. "So one day at school I tried to talk to her and you know what she did? She, she called her friends over and they started calling more people. And all the while she just stood there glaring and then she started saying horrible, horrible things while the others laughed."  
His voice deepened slightly at this point and he looked at Harleen; her eyes had widened considerably like she was picturing the scene herself, watching him, her beloved patient, young and scarred and mocked by others. "It went on for days, Doc. All the pranks and all the names... It was all a bad joke. A bad joke. One. Bad. Joke." He paused. Those thoughts would soon get to him if he didn't take a bit of care and he wouldn't want to stab doctor in the eye with her pen. He sighed dramatically and closed his eyes for a moment- "And all because of these." He finished, his tone less deep and threatening as he pointed to the scars on his face.  
He managed to surppress the giggles that wanted so badly to come out at he looked at his victim to see if his story had as much effect as it should've. It certainly had. Harleen's eyes were shining back at him with tears.

What a poor child. She gripped the pen tightly in her hand as she looked at the broken boy.  
He wasn't sick, not by his own fault. Week after week, she'd listen to another tale about his monstrous father, his invalid mother. Of emotional and physical abuse from everyone that passed through his life, and how Batman embodied them.  
Joker couldn't hold that face forever, so he swung his legs off the bed, bowing his head in distress.  
Truthfully though, hidden behind that curtain of dark hair ... he was grinning. Harleen, however.. Saw distressed. Vulnerability. Humanity.  
Joke knew this. Children on a playgroud, what a perfect finish... one last straw to break the camel's back. He grinned wider as he heard her stand up, even walk toward him.  
She couldn't just sit there while this man sat in his pain.  
He had been left alone for so long because no one saw what she saw in him. He just needed someone to love him, to help him heal."I

"I'm sorry.." she said sympathetically as she stood at his bedside. Then she sat down quietly next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.  
Joker lowered his head further, shaking it slightly. "And all because I was different, Doc..." He should be in tears, but his face didn't match the tone of voice in which he spoke: he was still grinning and it was becoming increasingly harder to not burst out laughing at her reaction. If he was any other human being he wouldn't have pushed it this far without feeling regret. But really, regret wasn't something he counted on feeling anytime soon.

"I'm... I'm glad you came along though." He frowned, trying to turn his gleeful expression into a gloomy one. When he was sure he wouldn't start grinning again all of a sudden he turned his head to look up at her. "You're, you're not like them." He was so close to breaking her now, he knew it. "They... They never helped, they just made it all worse. They don't listen and the way the treated me all these years... It keeps convincing me that it's hopeless to get better." He paused, breathing deeply. He couldn't be more proud of his theatrical skills right now. "But you, you listen to me. And you make me, you make me hope for a... A future. Freedom from all of these horrible memories and all these feelings."  
Lies! He had a future, alright, but that future didn't go through years of counseling. In fact, his future was just so close he could almost grasp it.  
Harleen was fighting to hold back her tears now. He wasn't a monster, a "freak" as others said. He was a man who had gone through so much and even with his mind molded to the way it was, he was still so strong! Was she the only one who saw how he was hurting? Leaving him after each session had become increasingly painful but this time she wasn't sure she could leave him alone for the rest of the week - goodness knows what it did to him!  
Her hand moved slowly over his shoulder and she almost wanted to reach over and touch his face. Assure to him that everything would be alright. But those words seemed so empty more often than not... She didn't want to break all this trust, she didn't want to break him even more.  
He felt her hand moving and cautiously, ever so cautiously, moved one of his. To her it seemed he was afraid to be hurt again, afraid she'd reject him as much as anyone else. But truthfully, he was fighting the urge to grab her wrist and twist it. .To force her to let him out. But that would ruin everything.  
No, he'd been patient this long, and he was so close now that he didn't want to waste all of his patience now. He pushed the desire for violence back and laid his hand on top of hers.

"Doc, you know I can't get better here," he said quietly, slowly harvesting the seed he'd planted. "I want to get better.. Be better. But Arkham is not the place for anyone to do that.."  
He said, a flash of maliciousness crossing his emerald eyes before he reigned it in again.  
She nodded in a hesitant agreement. He was right.. No one ever came into Arkham and was released again, better for it. It wasn't a rehabilitation center so much as a death sentence.  
He smiled at her nod.  
"Then.. You'll help me? Help me get better... really?" he asked, long tongue laving out over his lips again.  
"Ye-yes, I..." Harleen paused. A more logical part of her was trying to remind her of what this all meant; she was agreeing to let the Clown Prince of Crime escape Arkham. It was illegal. Unethical.  
And in all honesty she wouldn't forgive herself if she didn't and he only got worse.  
He faked surprise; he wasn't expecting her to disagree but anyone else would have. And her broken little boy would have too, he figured.

"Will you really, Doc?" He even looked from one side to another and blinked as if making sure this was all real. "Will you really save me from this, this hell I'm trapped in?"  
It was a desperate plea; she couldn't bear the thought of letting him down now. It would hurt her. And he would hurt her. But she wouldn't care because it would hurt him more and she didn't want that, not at all.  
Silence settled between them for a moment. He was waiting; he had pushed her off the edge like a doll and he was waiting for her to finally break. And she... She was pushing away the uncertainty, the part that was telling her to say no, to run and to let him lose it for good.  
And it was all becoming so confusing; so much in fact, that for a moment her heart was racing and she was breathing faster and she might have just fainted or screamed but something in her suddenly clicked and it all went back to normal. And she was fine and still on the verge of tears because she couldn't stand seeing him in pain and the first thing that came out of her mouth was a "Yes." Simple, straight to the point and this time without hesitation.  
His fish had not only nibbled the lure, but had had jumped right in the boat with him. Just as expected.  
Joke was excellent at manipulation; look at how he had sullied Gotham's White Knight. To that, Harley Quinzel would would just be another tool, not as important, but still.. He could get his use out of her.  
Perhaps even beyond using her as a means of escaping. She believed him.  
Every lie that slipped past his scarred lips she was drinking in and sharing his false pain.  
"Thank you, Doc... Harleen..." He said, patting the hand on his shoulder. He swallowed, trying to keep the hideous laughter that conquering another spirit gave him.  
He looked to Harleen like he might start crying again, though.. this time, relief. All he wanted was someone to help him.. He was already doing so much better.  
"..Harley. Just Harley," she said quietly. Though, now she had promised to help him get out... She really had no idea what she would do.  
Joke, as ever, had a plan.. And now that he knew she was wrapped entirely around his maniupultive finger, a harlequin marionette, a simple plan was already forming inside of his warped head.  
"It won't be.. easy." Yes, yes it would. He could've been out months ago if he'd just grabbed his little therapist as a hostage. "He'll get me, you know.. If I move . .If he knows where I am. He'll find me."  
Harley turned around to make sure the guards weren't eavesdropping before she dared to speak again.

"He won't find out." It wasn't just empty words to try and reassure him. She may not have been by any means a genius, but she was creative enough to come up with something. Something simple but something that worked. And she knew what it was already. "I work here, I could get you out of without causing a commotion." She placed her other hand over her and smiled ever so slightly; he seemed so harmless now. How could people think so badly of him?  
"And I wouldn't leave you on the streets by yourself. We can find some place... Perhaps not my house, they might think it's an obvious hiding place... But there are a lot of places in town to choose from, I think." She shrugged but it wasn't out of indifference. She just figured he had an idea of his own. "I'll help you get better, I'll listen to you... I won't let him find you."  
He had to actually hold his breath for a few seconds or he'd laugh like the maniac he truly was. This... This young lady was so devoted to him that she thought she could keep the batman out of the way!  
Oh, she was worth all the effort; she truly was, too much fun. "Thank you Do- I mean... Harley." He even offered her a small smile which she would see and that little bit of hope already getting to him. "When... When can you... Help me? When will I be free from these, these... chains?"  
If he had any belongings there he would have started packing already.

Harley couldn't help but return the small smile she'd received three-fold. How could anyone not see this? After all the hurt and pain.. he was still good at heart. He wanted to be protected from Batman and to be out of his cell... He wanted to get better. How could she deny him this?

"Soon," she insisted, adjusting the reading spectacles she wore. She'd need to find someplace for him to stay. And a way to get him out. "Very soon, " she added, biting her bottom lip as she thought about it.  
He was rather impatient, waiting for her to orchestrate a simple escape plan. But he could hold his tongue just a bit longer.  
He licked his lips, staring at the thoughtful girl before he could restrain an interjection.  
"If you could just.. pause the security equipment, no one would be the wiser when you.." 'Let me escape' was what came to mind, but he thought better and said, "help me get free.." He shifted a little more, the excitement of having Gotham to toy with again making him smile wider.  
Harley listened to his timid idea, "I think I can do that.." With her marks she was a trusted member of the staff. She'd just need to grab some keys.. The night guards were few in number and less attentive anyway.  
Many nights inmates would be screaming and they wouldn't bother to do more than check the night-vision cameras.  
She needed to get him out fast though, before that hope she'd given him faded away. She couldn't bear the thought of hurting him like that.  
It was all working exactly how he wanted it to. She hadn't questioned his motives and kept thinking he was just trying to become healthy, "sane" again – though really he'd rather be mad than like those 'civilized people' out there, filled up with useless moral codes, living their boring lives until someone like him arrived and made it all so much better.  
"I hope you can help me quickly. I'm a bit worried about... About what they can do when we least expect." He paused, tapping his feet lightly on the floor; he may have looked nervous to her. "I don't want to die in here, Harley."  
Harley was silent for a good three minutes, thinking about how exactly she was going to do this. All the while he just sat there like a child, tapping his feet. Tonight, tonight, it had to be tonight.  
"Tomorrow night," she started, her voice barely above a whisper; she wouldn't dare saying it loud enough for any guard to hear. "Tonight I have to get everything ready. And it will be less suspicious if it's not on a Wednesday. It will buy us more time before they decide to, I don't know, contact me." It was a horrible scheme but she liked it; and Joker had to give her credit for it. And oh, how wonderful it would be when she realized what a mistake she was making.  
Again, he had to resist the urge not to attack her. That black pen would have done the job nicely, he had to admit.  
He hated negotiating.. Hated it, but he tried to cover his anger by just seeming upset. His tongue licked the corners of his mouth again as he thought the situation over.  
She had turned out more useful than he thought...If he let her.. let her think he was willing to do what she wanted, she'd be his.  
"...Okay.." he said, looking down. "Tomorrow then... But while you're in there.. could you get my suit?" He asked, furrowing his brow to look a bit upset. He happened to like that suit, and he didn't want any bastards keeping HIS suit.  
"I think I can manage that..." Harley said with a smile. He obviously didn't want to spend another night in Arkham, the sad look on his face said it all. "I promise though, tomorrow night you'll be a free man.. And I can help you," she assured him. Her heart was racing again as he cracked another smile at her.  
"Thanks Harley.." He said.  
Now if she'd just leave him alone before he snapped and changed his mind.

The day had been going by slowly. Too slowly, as opposed to the previous night.

Harley had stayed only for a few more minutes, asking him a couple of routine questions and taking notes and had left with that promise of freeing him. After that, everything seemed to have been fast-forwarded in a way that The Joker didn't remember much more than falling into a dreamless sleep and waking up who knows how many hours later.

But then it's like time had slowed down. Perhaps it was the excitement.

He had been terribly good at hiding it so far. He was acting like he normally would (though his behavior was always far from "normal"), but deep down he was feeling giddy and angry at the same time.

Patience was a virtue, they said. He wasn't quite sure of that, considering what he had pulled off so far by being patient.

But the time was drawing closer and the smile he often wore grew wider as soon as the lights on the inmates' cells finally went out.

She'd be here soon and he'd be free and ready to claim back his city.

She clocked out at 5 p.m., as per usual, turning in her notes and saying goodbye to the office women on the way out. But she wouldn't be clocking back in tomorrow morning.

She went back to her one bedroom apartment and got everything shed need.

"Wire cutters, check... " she said, breathing to still her rapidly beating heart. "Mace.. Check. " It went in the small black bag she carried.

"Uniform... Check." She remembered the first time she had met him.

He giggled.. Not maniacally; not really. Just a giggle. She asked him why... He said her name.

It'd taken her a long time to get the joke, but she got it. Harleen Quinzel.

Harlequin. And she knew that there was no point in helping if she didn't get the Joke. She pulled on a small black mask, covering her eyes. Next was a red shirt, black shorts, and leggings; one black, one red. She pulled her hair up and tucked it into a hat, and with that Harley Quinn was off.

It was after eleven. The lights in the cell had been off an hour. .As long as she avoided the motion sensors she'd get to the security room easily. Harley had the advantage of blue prints, which she had snuck out of the office the night before, as she had promised. "Check..." She said, smiling as she put the purple costume that belonged to him in with her other things.

Retrieving the key to his cell was easier than she had thought. The guards would leave the security room for a short period of time to get their coffee and check on things and she was in and out of the room before they were even thinking of returning; and while Harley wasn't an ace with several high-tech gadgets, she had still managed to shut off the cameras rather quickly. It was a flaw in her plan, a bit obvious because the guards would see it upon their return. But it would buy them enough time. It was just so convenient that the Joker had been placed in a cell not far from the nearest door out of that death row. It was like they were inviting him to leave at any time.

She ran as fast as those years of gymnastics allowed her to; she tried to be quiet but the insomniac ones weren't oblivious to the figure running past their cells and screamed, though not exactly about an intruder but more about the random things that came to their minds. She couldn't be happier that this was a house for the insane.

He could hear her footsteps as they neared her. It had taken her long enough; but he hadn't lost hope in her, no. He knew she would come, she was broken and completely devoted to his will and there was no turning back from it now. Not unless she had regained her sanity in a bit over twenty-four hours – and he knew she hadn't.

He had been sitting on the floor for a while now, legs spread in front of him in a childlike manner and he was looking at the door; he heard the click of a key and mechanisms working their way to unlock the object. And when the door was pushed back, instead of standing up immediately and running off he could not help but to stare. The dim light of the few lamps that lit the hall weren't of much help but this… This was astounding. After all this time she had finally understood the joke. True, he hadn't expected her to go to such length but he was impressed. And from what little he could see in this dark place, she looked at least half decent – unlike one Pamela Isley, two rows down, left side, who had been brought into the Asylum in what the Joker suspected was a bathing suit and tights.

Harley moved closer, offering him her hand – it was a simple gesture and she didn't even register that he might break her arm and leave her here. "We don't have all night, you know?"

Joke looked up at her, unmoving from his spot. His dilated eyes, permanently diabolical looking, moved over her to the bag she carried.

The suit better have been in that bag, or she might as well signed her own death warrant. He would hate having to break back into this place just to get his possessions back.

"Whatever you say, Doc," he said, grasping her hand and pulling himself up. His face was twisted into a half smile, still partially amused at the trouble she'd gone through to impress him. It was rare that anyone could cause the clown prince of crime to be amused, so that was quite the undertaking. Enough for him to allow her to lead the way out instead of forging his own path.

The hand grasping hers was rather tight, but she had no doubt he was just as nervous as she was about escaping. She'd never guessed that he was just incapable of contact without some measure of discomfort involved. She peeked into the hallway again, making sure no guards had wandered into the hall. When she saw it was clear, she led the quiet run down the way.

Funny enough, the criminals seemed to quite down when they realized who she was escorting.

Joke let go of her hand when they made it to the door. But, just as she opened it, a red light flashed above it.

"Silent alarm?! You didn't--" He rolled his eyes, his teeth grinding slightly. Oh well, they were already out.

He could just.. Ah, but she had the suit. He grabbed her by the arm and darted off, unable to keep laughter from bubbling past his lips as they ran.

Harley had completely forgotten about the alarm and even whispered a small "oops" when it went off, just before he grabbed her arm and they ran for the exit. And as they ran away and out the facility she realized just how contagious his laugher was and soon enough she was laughing too – though granted, not as loudly and hysterically as him.

Chaos ensued in Arkham. Only moments after their grand escape the guards were already gathering, calling for important names, checking for any other escaped inmates. But they were all there, all but him, the Joker. And they could only hope, through phone calls and as they released the dogs, that Batman hadn't left for good.

And of course, Joker was hopeful that Batman hadn't left for good, too. The thought of seeing the Dark Knight again and pull him into one of his games made the Ace of Knaves a happy (mad)man.

"This way!" Motioned Harley, pointing to one of the corners just past the high walls surrounding Arkham Asylum. Her car was parked not too far from there, just far enough to go by unnoticed by anyone who might recognize it. It wasn't in her master plan to escape in her car forever and find some hideout. But for now it was a good means of transport to get them away from that hell.

Joke smiled as a car came into view. By the way she was heading toward it, it was no doubtlessly hers. He would have just stolen one anyway, but this worked out just fine since he didn't really care if she was caught.

"Keys." But, he did care who was driving. They were out of there, now it was his turn to be boss. He stopped in front of the black camero and let go of her arm to hold out his hand.

Harley blinked, a smile still on her face. This was exhilarating.. She couldn't really blame him for his crimes if this was the sort of rush he got.

She put a gloved hand in her shorts and produced the keys, not hesitating a moment before handing them to the serial killer.

He took them immediately, wrenching open the door and flopping into the drivers seat. He barely waited for her to get into the passenger seat before peeling out and tearing down the paved road.

"I know just the place," he said, scarred lips pulled apart in a grin. His eyes darted from the road to Harley as he spoke. "..But I want to make a ..quick stop first."

If what he'd heard was right and the Batman was in hiding, Joker was going to draw the flying rat out. He laughed, no longer trying to repress himself as he sped down the road.

Harley was still struggling to stay still in her seat enough to put on the seat belt when he was already driving at a high speed, laughing while he did it. But soon enough she was able to sit back and take a deep, deep breath. She wasn't… 'Scared' of him. He was still unstable; she couldn't expect him to have the most normal reactions – and much less now that she was beginning to act a bit strangely herself. She recognized the way they were going until he turned a certain corner and she realized that this part of Gotham wasn't known to her.

"Where are we going?" She asked with a frown. Only now had her mind fully registered the "make a quick stop first" statement.

But he didn't answer. He was still too caught up in this overwhelming sense of joy (joy for being out of Arkham again while the others bit their nails in jealousy, joy for finally being able to play his little games, joy for having his little toy – Gotham – back) and in a way, answering or not she'd still have to wait and see. Because that's exactly what he would have told her; to wait and see.

Harley was looking at him expectantly until she finally understood that he wasn't going to say anything. She decided not to force him to answer. She had never done that, she had always been patient with him. Now was no different, she was still going to help him and being out here was no excuse to act like another of Arkham's doctors.

How long they were in that car remained unknown to both driver and passenger and the sky was even darker once they finally pulled to a stop. It was an old warehouse area with a few cars pulled over here and there. Some of the structures had burned walls and broken doors while some others seemed to be in an almost perfect condition. The Joker opened the door and stepped out, quickly making his way to the other side of the vehicle to open her door. But he wasn't opening the door for Harley as a gentleman would, no. The first thing he did was to snatch the bag from her and tell her to hurry as he started making his way down one of the dirty paths to one specific warehouse.

Harley nearly ripped out the bloody seatbelt as she struggled to get out of the car and follow him. But the walk was short before he found the door he wanted and made his way in, making his way into the wide, empty area. It was dark and still smelled like something was burning and it made him grin wider. Harley, on the other hand could only stare down at the ground. There was a liquid… Some sort of fuel, perhaps? And some bits of paper – which upon closer inspection proved to be the remainders or bills. Had he done this?

God the smell. He missed it so much. Not just the smell of the burned money and the fuel, but the smell of fear. Fear still there after all those months.. fear and anger. It smelled like home, like Gotham.. Like winning a game.

Bats may have thought he won, barely.. But that had only been the first round.

Joke opened the bag as Harley watched, obviously a little confused about why they were here.

"Unfinished business," he said simply, looking back to the bag she'd brought. Thankfully, the suit was nestled inside. He pulled it out quickly, ditching the Arkham grey uniform without a thought of modesty or embarrassment. Harley, however, blushed a little under her mask and politely turned her head. Of course he was obsessive about these things, the clothing had helped define him for so long.

She wouldn't expect anything more from him so soon. Though she had noticed the light scarring on his upper arms in places, that was something he'd never mentioned in their sessions.

He pulled on the purple pinstripe pants and the olive green vest. It was like slipping into a familiar bed for the maniac.

When the jacket was added, he dug his hands into his pockets and produced a set of matches.

Striking one, he lit the Arkham clothing on fire, smiling at the flaring flame before he tossed the clothing into the remaining pile of bank notes and fuel. "There.." he said.

To his marionette it would look more like a misguided attempt to get rid of that part of his life.. His imprisonment. But really, it was to get a point across. To Him.

This wasn't a random arson.. It was a call-out. And Bats would answer.

He started walking back to he car, his shoulders slumped as he swayed slightly, making the slightest motion for Harley to follow. And she did, grabbing the bag quickly and catching up to the other.

When they reached the car, she instantly made her way to the passenger seat while he walked to the driver's seat; it was almost like an old routine although it had only happened this once. Harley didn't bother with the seatbelt this time and Joker didn't bother to mention it. It's not like it would make any sense to follow the rules anymore, no one would be congratulating them for it anytime soon.

He started the car and started driving in another direction she hadn't seen or heard of before and it was only after a good twenty minutes of driving around dark, deserted streets with old abandoned buildings that she finally decided to voice the question she had been trying to find the answer for.

"Where are we going now?"

Joker had been too absorbed in thoughts, in his own little world, to pay attention to the Harlequin next to him. The silence did not bother him the very least but it seemed to have bothered her after a while. He almost told her that HE was going to find a hideout to stay at but decided against it; she was coming with him as well and she'd be useful, much more than the masked pawns in his little bank robbery games. He would just have to hold back the urge to cut up that pretty mouth of hers and leave her to die in a corner.

"Home." Was his answer and while the word couldn't be any less accurate, he found it fitting.

Harley furrowed her brow a little bit as she took the thin black mask off her eyes. Home.

Joker had never really spoken well of his childhood home, so it was a bit hard for her to imagine him so eager to get there. She knew it couldn't be much, not if police hadn't found it and raided it since his capture.

Still, she wasn't afraid. He was taking her a long... He wanted her with him, and that meant that he wanted her help.

And he did want her help. But only in continuing his games of Cat and Mouse- or.. Bat and Mouse perhaps, for the city of Gotham. She was gullible, devoted, like any good villain. But she was another thing... Innocent.

And Bats couldn't resist all the plans he suddenly had for her unfurling in his head .

But he needed to calm down some, now that he had made his point to the city by finishing his job at the warehouse. Slow down... as much as he hated to... and wait. Like he had been for several months in Arkham.

He pulled the pretty black car to a screeching halt, tearing out of the seat like there was someone in the backseat.

His hands stuffed themselves into his jacket pocket as he walked around the vehicle. He looked over his shoulder at Harley as she was getting out.

She couldn't help but smile when he looked back at her, asking her to follow him. Of course, she obliged, quickly getting out of the car and following him down the narrowing alley. Again, the buildings seemed broken down or burnt. Though Joke had nothing to do with this incident.

One building was burnt down to the bare structure, and she followed the madmen inside the dilapidated building that looked like it could crumble at any moment.

It didn't look any nicer on the inside, but Joker didn't stop walking either. He passed several remainders of walls before abruptly stopping in the middle of the floor.

He kicked away at layers of dust on an old burnt rug and pulled it aside, revealing a door. It opened with a crack and he walked down into the cement basement, whistling a jaunty tune.

It had been an old fallout shelter, and she had to admit.. It was a rather clever place to hide. But Joker was quite brilliant, wasn't he? The place was far from nice, but it wasn't really uncomfortable either.

He flipped on a switch, turning on the single bulb in the room.

It was dusty, but otherwise not entirely unclean. But something about the arrangement of the furniture was unsettling. There was a hall off to one side, hinting at the possibility of more rooms.

"Don't get a lot of company.." he said, brushing a bit of stringy hair back and licking his lips. Might as well be conversational.

"We need him," Gordon said quietly, looking off the roof. Blocks away, he could see smoke rising from the old warehouse. The Bat Signal might've been destroyed...But someone _else_ was calling the hero out now with a signal of his own.

Harley took a seat in the old couch she was standing next to. She had expected for it to break completely under her weight, what with its dilapidated state – as it was with most of the objects in the room, though she wasn't particularly bothered by it, or the smell that most people would considered somewhat unpleasant. Well, she did too but it wasn't unbearable. She had gotten used to this sort of thing through Arkham and its patients. She had seen a lot of people there, all of them fascinating but not nearly as much as this man. And it almost like a fairytale that he had taken her with him, to teach her of freedom, to start over.

She wasn't shy by nature but she wasn't entirely sure of what to tell him as he sat next to her, either. She couldn't bring herself to ask what he was planning to do now… It almost sounded like she thought he was going to commit some great crime or…

Lure in Batman. It was hard to keep that out if his mind, regardless of how many times he told himself to do so. The bat was just too much fun! He had realized at some point months ago that knowing his identity would be a great loss. That it would be the same as suddenly remembering every little detail of his life the way it was – or the way people say is "real" because to him a lot of the ways he remembers it are accurate – and becoming one of those normal citizens. But without knowing the face behind the mask… There was so much he could do to the great Dark Knight. Indirectly, of course, such as in the case of Mr. Harvey Dent and his girlfriend; one had completely abandoned his morals and given in to the chaos. The other brought chaos into men's hearts, all blown up to little pieces. Oh and what a wonderful sight it must have been. Batman had been so predictable at the time, he better have improved a bit until now.

And it brought him back to the harlequin… He kept reminding himself of how useful she would be in a future not so distant from now.

"Say, Harley…" She stopped examining the room and looked at him with those big blue eyes, frowning ever so slightly and muttering a 'yes?' of acknowledgment. "Did I ever tell you how I got these scars?"


	2. Bat out of Hell

It was him. But how? It couldn't be, he was in Arkham Asylum. He had been kept under high security and any attempt to escape should have been in vain. But no, it must have been him, it was the same place. First there was the smoke; he could see it rising high above that area of Gotham. Then the firefighters started gathering and news reporters too - they would kill for anything out of the ordinary regardless of the place and time. It was like they expected the Batman to come at any time.

But he did not. It was Bruce Wayne who was seeing this, not the Dark Knight himself. Batman disappeared for good soon after the Joker was locked up, only present for one or two more crimes - and none as severe as the mad man's.

But desperate times called for desperate measures and if it really was the Joker - and hell if this man was going to wait for anyone to get killed to find out if it was - then the Dark Night would rise once again.

Harley nodded a little, shifting some in her seat. She had wanted to ask, hinted at it so many times... But she didn't want him to think she was like the others.. Obsessed with the raised and ruined skin accenting an otherwise nicely shaped face. She smiled slightly at that thought, but as the corners of her mouth stretched, so did his.

"I was six..." he started, a tongue slipping out to lick his old wounds. "My mother.. She played piano before she died. I missed the sound of it so much that I tried to play.." his fingers moved slowly through the air, as if he was pressing the keys. "Dad thought it was pretty amusing.. Cute.."

Harley winced a little, knowing that it couldn't possibly end well.

Joke moved closer to her, his body turning so his emerald eyes were staring at her blue ones.

"Until I got a bit too... harsh... And broke a string. My father had quite a temper.. " He remembered it well. The yelling, the drinking, the beatings... Really, it was his fault his mother had gotten so sick and passed away. He remembered it well.

"The drinking didn't help.." he laughed harshly, the giggy but gruff sound echoeing through the cement room. "Breaking mother's prized possession was something an ex-military man couldn't stand for. First he just slapped me around.. kicking me a few times after he got me off the piano bench."

Harley's shoulders tensed.

She'd heard many stories about abusive parents in her career, but something about Joker's eyes.. as if he was living it for the first time, gave her chills.

"I couldn't keep from crying, and daddy didn't like that.. So he tore the string out of the piano.. Slicing his own fingers pretty good...'Shut up, Junior!..' He laughed, making sure I felt his boot again..

Then he rolled me over and held me down," he smiled, teeth showing as he took a breath. "It's all a joke.. don't get so upset! ' " he barked, imitating the man's harsh voice.

"'Why so serious?'.. Over and over.. 'Why so serious?' .. the strings sliced away at the sides of my lips until I was choking on my own blood.. " By this time, Harely was shaking. He was nose to nose with her, unblinking, breathing harshly. What could she say to that? She could barely even hear him over her own heart, despite the fact he was yelling.

"Please, Batman..." Gordon called into the night, standing vigilantly alone. He looked for the caped hero. He had to know. Surely Batman hadn't abandoned the city he'd sacrificed so much to protect.

Then, just as he thought the effort was lost, a black shadow overtook his own. Gordon spun around.

"It's him," the Bat said gruffly.

He was losing control now. It was just a story at first but he wasn't like others, no; and for him it all became too real. Those things he told people brought up memories and feelings that should not be - they hadn't happened, yet he felt as if they did. He reacted accordingly, too.

Harley was scared. But he kept shouting, telling her that horrible, horrible story and his hands were shaking just as much as the girl's whole body; a part of him still had control and was preventing him from breaking her neck right there and then. But he suddenly stopped and his breathing was back to normal and his hands felt weak for a moment. And he blinked and asked with an almost childlike expression, a complete opposite from only fractions of second before. "Why so serious?"

She was still in some sort of shock when his whole attitude changed literally in the blink of an eye. But then it was like the world came crashing down on her and she felt the tears at the corners of her eyes and soon she was burying her face in his chest crying like it was her fault or like it was her own memories he had been telling. She had pictured it so clearly and it was agonizing... It only made her want to help him more and more.

When he regained control over his actions he was "attacked" by Harley. But oh, what's this - she was crying. It was such a gratifying feeling, really and he could not help but to grin. And to think that only moments ago he could have killed her just like that.

"We know." Gordon sighed, looking at his trusted ally with a most worried yet hopeful look on his face. Batman had not abandoned them. There was still hope, hope that the Joker would not win in whatever he might be planning. "We got a call from Arkham not long ago. We already sent men out to search for him but-"

"It won't be of any use." Batman interrupted matter-of-factly in his deep voice.

"But we have to try. We can't- I can't let anyone else die because of him." And his family. He was worried about what that criminal could do to them, not to him. "Please, Batman... If only you can stop him then please do it. For the people of Gotham."

He giggled as he felt her shaking against him, her quiet little sobs racking her body. It was quite a different sensation than he usually felt.

Of course, they were always afraid of him... And rightfully so. He always felt justified when he killed them afterwards, after all.. they had been

expecting nothing less from the Joker.

But Harley, she wasn't afraid for her life, really. She was .. sympathetic. Sympathy? For him? Well that just proved that he had cracked her pretty nicely.

He had made her mad as well. He entertained the idea of having her along for more than just this one instance... she might be more useful as a pet than just a tool to lure Bats out this one time.

He grinned at thought and looked at the door, almost expecting the Dark Knight to be there watching. Soon.

Gordon had looked away for a second, trying to gauge the firefighters' success, and the Batman was already gone.

He looked back to the warehouse with a sigh. Damage wouldn't be expensive in the desolate part of town.

No accidental deaths in the uninhabited buildings.

It was just the Joker having his way again, getting what he wanted from Gotham. And being sure Batman understood the sentiment.

The winged vigilante made his way across the city, looking for a clue left by his nemesis.

A body. An obscene sign... Anything.

But as he searched the area, he didn't find much more than tire tracks. One thing was certain, though. Joker hadn't orchestrated his escape from Arkham alone.

For a moment Batman had to wonder if this was all a part of his schemes - but no, it sounded all too perfect. And no one would have helped him escape after hearing of what he did to his "accomplices" - or so he thought.

The streets were literally deserted but he wasn't by any means scared. It was nearly impossible to live in this area and it was a wonder how it hadn't been demolished yet, replaced by tall apartment buildings and life. Life- he looked down again and frowned underneath the mask. Some of these marks were very recent and there was still smell of burnt fuel lingering in the area. A car wouldn't drive itself around, someone had been here!

He started walking in the direction some of those marks seemed to follow and while sometimes he would mix them up and end up having to go back on his way, he eventually found it. It was the only car that hadn't been reduced to pieces scattered around. He was closer now - or so he hoped as he went into one of the buildings, then another, then another... The Joker must be in this area somewhere. Waiting for him.

Harley kept on crying for what may or may not have been a good half an hour until the sobs stopped. She did not pull away from the man however, instead leaning closer like it was her duty to keep him out of harm's way. She was quiet; unable to process anything half decent to tell him, but it didn't matter. He hadn't pushed her away yet, so perhaps it was all good that way.

But no, no, it was perfect! And it would be divine once Bats got here so they could finally start their next game. Speaking of which, where was the bat? Joker couldn't help but to pout a bit; he should be here by now, his clues weren't that hard to figure out, not to the almighty Dark Knight.

Crash.

Harley's head shot up. "What- What was that?"

Joker chuckled but there was something to his tone... Some sort of excitement, hysteria. "I think our guest of honor is arriving."

Oh this would be glorious... But there was no way it could end so soon. He had so many .. plans. He couldn't see his new pet just yet, no way. It would ruin it.

"Go out the back way..." He said, jumping up and taking her with him. He shoved her along toward the hallway. "Wait in the car." He said, his voice shaking with excitement.

Harley blinked a few times, but did as she was told, dashing through the hallway and toward another set of stairs on the other side of the building.

These led up, but not out. It was a sort of.. tunnel system of sorts.Eventually though, she saw a door in the ceiling much like the one they came in. She had to push hard, as some rubble had

fallen over it, but she eventually wrenched it open.

And she saw tires. Her tires. And she smiled.

He really was quite clever.

Joker sat back down, crossing his legs on the sofa in a relaxed pose just as the Dark Knight was breaking into his little hideaway.

"Most people just knock, Batsy," he said with a stretched grin as the figure stood in his doorway. His heart was pounding.. This is what it was about.

His.. other part. His Yang.

His own personal puzzle to break. The Batman.

"Couldn't find any make-up in Arkham, Joker?" he asked, voice as dark as always, as he stayed where he was. This man was mad, and he had been waiting for him to arrive. There was no telling what strange traps he had set up. Though he did appear to be alone.

Joker giggled and stood up, clasping his hands together. "...A clever retort, Batman," he said sarcastically. "I've taken off my mask... When will you take off yours?" he asked with a taunting sneer.

Batman grunted, clearly in no mood for his games.

"You're going back to Arkham, Joker..." he said.

"..I don't think so. They didn't give me a day pass... I don't need to go back," he giggled and looked at the wall. "Besides. _You_ wouldn't want me to..." He commented, looking a little bit bored with the drawling conversation.

"You see, Bats... You neeeeed me," he grinned, staring at the eyeholes in the mask and cracking another smile.

He hated these games.. That grin.

Joker was beating around the bush, even though it was obvious the sick bastard was bored with just talking. And he hated those nicknames..But the madman liked to tease him...Batman didn't want to play the game, but he did want to get the other man back in a cell.

"Nobody needs you. Me least of all."

"How humble," Joke remarked.

"But completely false.. Arkham isn't exactly as secure a facility as you seem to think it is..." He burst into a fit of laughter. "Obviously!" He added.

He took a few steps closer to the Bat and paused, his hand almost twitching.

What a rush.

"You see, I've been hearing a lot of things. 'Where's Batman?' 'Batman's left town..'" He said, throwing his hands up. He saw the masked hero, still as stone, prepared to strike at any show of offense.

"Without me... What are you?..." He didn't wait for an answer. "You're nothing, Batman. Without someone to fight, the big, bad, Bat is dormant and useless.. and.. A Joke."

Instead of reply, he got a punch in the mouth, which sent him reeling back. Strong hands gripped his olive green vest and kept him from going far.

Batman watched the madman lick his lips, spreading the blood around like paint as he laughed. It wasn't just the pain; the feeling of being truely alive again, that Joke was laughing at.

He had broken Batman.. So easily, too.

It hadn't taken much and the Dark Knight was already throwing punches!

"See? Who else could make you do that?" He cackled.

He knew he was no match for the kevlar-coated hero... But, he was cleverer than his foe. And he knew Batman would never sacrifice innocent lives to put him behind Arkham's walls

Another punch and he could only laugh as the blood poured down his face. The only thing it took was to push the right buttons... And the Dark Knight would release his rage like any other mad man.

His laugher had become insufferable. He had become insufferable. He made his words seem so true but did he expect Batman to believe him like he had done to others? To the Mob, to the thugs he'd find off the streets, to Dent, to-

To whoever helped him.

"Where are your henchmen?" He clearly had no intention to deepen the previous subject. The Joker would simply go on and on about it, trying to make him snap - and he simply couldn't. He wouldn't kill this man and prove him right - he was incorruptible.

But the other man just kept laughing like this whole thing had nothing to do with him, like the pain didn't get to him - he had no limit, he could take all the pain in the world like a simple paper cut.

"What, what are you saying? You want names?" He moved his head closer, licking his lips. He was feigning curiosity. "My friends' names?"

"You don't have friends." Batman growled, shaking him violently for a second. But he just laughed even louder.

"Well you see, that's where you're wrong, Bats!" He licked his lips again. He didn't have much time before the hero of Gotham decided to take him back to Arkham by force. "I have lots and lots of friends. And they're, they're waiting for me right now. But of course if I'm not there on time..." He paused dramatically, but he was shaken violently again. A chuckle. "They might drive each other off the edge. Quite literally." He grinned almost pleasantly. If only it were true.

"You didn't." Batman did not believe him. Or rather, he did not want to believe him.

"Oh come on Bats, don't tell me you've lost faith in me already!" He gasped. So dramatic. "I had to keep myself busy all these months."

That was it.

"Where. Are. They." He would not tolerate any more of those jokes.

"Oh, I'm afraid I can't tell you unless you let me off on my merry way."

"Never."

"So you're willing to sacrifice them? Like you did with that lovely oh, what's her name... Rachel?"

This was the strongest hit of all and it ended with the Joker being thrown across the room, his face in a bloody mess. Oh yes, Batman was losing control of the situation and it couldn't be any better.

"WHERE ARE THEY?" And it was the most demanding and it was just what Joker had been expecting.

He stood up, stepping back towards the dark hallway, laughing as he did it. "Oh, yes... Axis chemical factory. You should hurry!" And as his nemesis left the building, ready to save all those lives apparently more worthy than his, he let himself drop on the floor, completely forgetting Harley for the time being. This was turning out better than he had planned.

Batman dashed away back up the way he came, heading for exactly where the madman had directed him. It was probably a trap. It was always a trap. But he didn't care. He wouldn't let what happened to Rachel happen again.


	3. Home Tonight

When he arrived on the scene, the plant seemed abandoned. He quietly snuck inside and… Nothing. Joker was bluffing.

He laughed until air was hard to get before he finally pulled himself back up to his feet. Sure, the blood was rushing to his head, making him stumble around a little. He looked at the face in the broken mirror on the wall, all stained red thanks to the hero. It made him giddy to know he'd gotten to the Bat so easily. Evidently, while Joke had been staring at white walls pondering all day,

Batman had gotten stupid.. rusty. Joker would need to get him into shape. He laughed again and headed out the way Harley had left. A second encounter with the Dark Knight wasn't needed tonight.

Harley was beginning to get worried. She sat in the passenger seat, her eyes darting from the alley to the second exit. What if he was right and Batman was beating her poor Joker and hauling him away right now? She was just about to get out of her seat, to help him, when the trapdoor opened and he came swaying out, blood dripping all over his swelling face.

Then she did get out. "What…?" She asked, her sentencing falling flat as fresh tears stained her eyes. He looked so pitiful… How could he possibly get better if people kept doing this to him. But here he was, coming back to her even though he looked like he should be on a hospital stretcher.

He grinned as he saw her eyes water again. So sensitive… But he was far too giddy to bother with her for now. He patted her on the shoulder before shoving her back into the car and shutting door.

"He'll be back… And I need somewhere to stay.." He said, walking around and getting in the driver's seat. How far would she be willing to go for him?

"But you need-" Harley didn't even finish her sentence once she took a good look at him. Others wouldn't seem him the way she did; hell, they wouldn't even see her as his doctor, would they? For them, they'd be freaks. Criminals. Dangerous. He couldn't set foot in a hospital or he'd be sent back to Arkham, just like that - and she would be shipped off to Blackgate for helping him.

"A place to stay?" He tilted his head. He knew exactly what she had meant to say and this time she had been so… predictable. But it was quite alright, she was naïve and she was just worried about him and his well-being.

She nodded slowly. He didn't have anywhere else to stay and she couldn't leave him here or Batman would come back and finish the job – whether it meant taking him back alive or nor she didn't even want to think about it. Right now he could only count on her and she couldn't abandon him. It wasn't like her to do it, she wasn't going to hurt him too.

"My house…" She started slowly and then whispered her home address to him, almost like it was a secret. "It's only me and, well… Me." She laughed sheepishly. "My neighbors are too loud and worried about themselves to care about who comes in and out of other people's homes. I doubt that there's anyone going in and out at this time, it'll be easy to get you in there." She paused. Something was not right; it felt like she was assuming leadership

"Unless you have a better idea, of course." She added as an afterthought.

He smiled wider as they drove off. He was going fast, but not fast enough to leave a trail behind for his nemesis. Not this time. "Your house…?" He asked, calmer now. So interesting that she was willing to still take him home, as if he was a stray dog in need of care. She must be mad herself.

"Sounds fine for tonight," he said, ultimately his curiosity to see what conditions she lived in was more a factor than him actually wanting to go to her place. It was a bold move, if anyone had seen her helping him escape. If not, perhaps questions wouldn't be asked until she didn't come into work.

Tomorrow they'd ditch the car and steal something a little less traceable and find a proper place to stay. Oh how Batman would completely lose it, when he found out that the Joker had something he didn't. Someone who cared about him…

. He laughed out loud, sparking a curious glance from Harley as they drove down the road. She did care about him, and she had so many questions to ask… But she knew not to barrel into things.

"All that just for an abandoned building?" she commented. "… He should have been the one in a cell," she said quietly. She was just glad it was late. The streets were empty.

"There's no one madder," he told her, his eyes glancing her way a moment. Bats really was crazy… Repressing his behavior like he did. Except with the him. He liked to think of them as kindred spirits.

They pulled into the little apartment parking garage and he got out of the car, humming quietly. She was going to ask for the keys, to lead the way inside, but he found the house key easily enough on his own and started up the stairs. Harley followed behind, smiling slightly. If anyone knew him like she did… He was inspiring.

He had his flaws, yes. But after everything he'd been through it was remarkable he still had any sense about him at all. He was just strong spirited. She followed him in the door, looking behind to make sure no one had noticed before shutting it.

"I'll get something to clean you up.. make yourself at home.." she said, slipping off into the washroom for the first aid kit and a wet rag.

--

On the other side of Gotham, Batman was very annoyed to find that Joker had left his little hideout, leaving nothing but blood on the floor. With nothing to go on, he headed back to the bat-cave and stowed his uniform, transforming back into Bruce Wayne for the rest of the night.

--

Once in the washroom, Harley took a moment to examine herself in front of the mirror – but not out of some narcissistic tendency, no; something about her current look made it seem like all she had before was fake, like cheap plastic reproductions of great masterpieces sold as souvenirs for outsides. Dressing up as the next good citizen to hide herself to the point when the mask became her reality. But this was different. She was different now. And she sort of liked it.

"Focus, Harley, focus." She shook her head and walked out of the room holding the items she had gone to get. But once she returned, Joker was nowhere in sight. She frowned, but ultimately decided to look for him. The apartment was small anyway, so he couldn't have gone far.

And surely enough, the Joker was found in the kitchen. One would have thought he was looking at the bowl of fruit like a child too shy to ask for something. But no, what caught his attention was something completely different. Something made of metal, shiny and with a sharp end. Harley had a most beautiful set of knives, some smaller, some bigger than others… He couldn't wait to apply better use to them.

"You don't need to ask, you know?" His gaze shifted to Harley and had he been anyone else he might have widened his eyes; she had caught him by surprise. But he dismissed that thought and sat on a stool when she motioned for him to do so. With this light Harley could see just how much of a mess the Batman had made. It almost made her start crying, to see just how hurt he was. But instead she carefully started cleaning his face, forcing that mask out of his face. And when she got too close to one of the scars her heart nearly stopped at the thought that it might still hurt him in some way and she hesitated before cleaning over them as well. But aside from shifting nervously as he always seemed to do now, he didn't move to try and stop her.

"Look at this mess…" Harley whispered with a sigh. "How could he…?"

He laughed a little.

"He's not really the hero of storybooks," he said. "As long as he's out there… free on the streets.. I'm never going to be safe. And you're not going to be safe either," he said. Oh, that was a good touch.

The wounds were still bleeding a little, but they had slowed enough so that Harley could put an antiseptic on them. "It'll sting," she warned quietly, but he didn't budge at the application. "If they could find him, they'd have to lock him up after what he did to Mr. Dent," she commented, chewing her lip. But how does one catch a masked man like that? No one knew who he was.

Still, she had promised to help him. "There…" she said, pulling away, faintly aware of the light blush on her cheeks. Something about those green eyes that watched her so unblinkingly.

Joke had to admit that it was strange to have someone so interested in sharing his personal space. It wasn't a very safe place to be for anyone, even though (or perhaps because) he was in a fantastic mood thanks to the evenings events. Not really the fireworks he normally went for, but it was easily counted as a success. He reached for an orange and a knife, picking a long thin blade from Harley's stand to slice the fruit.

Not that he really wanted the orange, but he did enjoy the feeling of the knife penetrating the fruits skin. "Lock Batman away… If only…" he said with a giggle. That would be no fun… But getting that mask off of him might be. He took an orange slice and offered it to his little accomplice, gripping it gingerly between his index finger and thumb, the knife still held tightly in the other hand.

If only, indeed. Harley had to nod in agreement. Everyone always spoke so greatly about Batman, how he did this and that and protected people. But no one ever stopped to think that perhaps Batman wasn't all that good… That perhaps the people he hurt in the process were just as human as anyone else that they had feelings – and like the Joker here, some had gone through a lot in their lives – and he went against his own beliefs by hurting them. In a way it was all too confusing but she felt like it was very simple.

And right there, right then, she couldn't help but to agree that the Batman was the craziest in the bunch. Just look at the Joker… Not once did he try to hurt her and he was even being nice to her! If anyone else could see him now, could they really say he was the ruthless murderer that everyone thought he was? Of course not. But no one would ever see him like this. They would always insist that he was like that, evil and calculating and unable to hold back violent impulses.

Harley smiled softly at his gesture and her hand moved to take the slice from his. But she was still in her own little world thinking of the man's good sides and took no notice of the knife.

Joker could have cut her fingers off right now; a part of him urged him to do so, too, but he didn't, instead allowing her to take the fruit and eat it with a soft 'thank you' of appreciation. She still had to adjust to this world of madness he had brought her into; let the pieces of her old broken self scatter around. If he hurt her now she'd only pick them up twice as fast and betray him. And he certainly wouldn't want her to do that.

"Say, Harley…" His face was contorted into something like a frown and he was now examining the knife like it was a harmless toy – and indeed, it was harmless until he decided to make it dangerous. Calling for her now was a random action, he had acted by impulse. And he could have asked anything he wanted, told her anything he wanted. He could have even had her explain what might have gone on in her life to make her so easy to snap. But he didn't do any of those things; it just wasn't the right moment. "You ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?"

He looked up to see her confused expression and chuckled.

"Never mind." He looked back down at the knife, a grin planted on his face. "Must have picked that one from an old movie."


	4. Mr Jones

He took a slice of the orange and chewed it himself, ignoring the stinging the citrus embedded in his busted and scarred lips. He turned around and slipped up onto the counter, putting his hands between his knees casually.

He was in a fantastic mood, and it showed as he swung his legs lightly. Harley couldn't help but smile. Even though he was hurt and in hiding, he was still just happy to be free. She leaned against the counter and looked up at him. "I guess I haven't seen that one," she remarked. Her mind wandered to the dancing comment, unable to resist the novel idea of dancing with Joker.

"I wouldn't have really pegged you as a dancer," she remarked, watching his reflection in the blade, which is what she assumed he was doing; just looking at himself. His eyes met hers and held them in metal reflection.

"Everyone dances," he remarked enigmatically, letting his eyes wander as he lost interest in the gleaming blade. Before Arkham he would have left by now, been onto the next big thing. But this was after Arkham, and he understood that he could do so, so much more by just waiting…Just a little.

"I'll need to leave tomorrow morning, you know," he told her, licking his lips, tasting blood and citrus all over again. "They'll come knocking on your door when a connection is made."

She would have dared him to prove his points about dancing, but he was too quick to change the subject to something she didn't really want to hear. Of course they would come to her, even if the situation was any different they would do it; she was his doctor. The only difference is that in any other situation she wouldn't have to lie. This of course, assuming that they wouldn't connect her to his disappearance. But she was just as sure they would and there was no way she could go back to Arkham… Unless they decided to lock her up as well.

Harley was silent for a while and the Joker couldn't help but to wonder what she was thinking of now. Her look wasn't dreamy, in fact, she seemed a bit serious. But she eventually gave a nod in agreement and spoke.

"I'll go with you. We can find somewhere else to stay."

He sort of wanted to laugh. 'I'll go with you', she had said, like she was in any place to give orders with the Joker. He really did want to laugh and he would have for sure, but at the moment he did acknowledge that she was right - and he certainly didn't want her to be taken away by the police or the Arkham staff if she stayed behind; no, it would put an end to his plans.

"Are you willing to give up on everything you've worked for your entire life?"

The female frowned. She hadn't expected such a question, it seemed almost unnatural that he would ask it. But she had her answer. "I gave up on it when I promised to help you. I don't regret it one bit." She smiled. "It was all too… Artificial, anyway."

His brow raised slightly in a show of genuine surprise. He wasn't really expecting such blatant acceptance. She had already thrown everything but him away. And all it took was a little pouting. The more he considered it, and truthfully he hadn't considered it much, the more he realized that Miss Quin was probably the sick puppy she was seeing in him. How quaint.

"Fantastic," he answered with a grin.

She returned his smile gladly.

"Help yourself to anything in the kitchen," she said. "I can pack whatever you think we'll need for in the morning," she said quietly, drumming her fingers on the counter. She was too excited to sleep, really. Despite the insanity of the evening, she couldn't remember when she'd enjoyed it so much.

Even though their luck was laced with tragedy.

Joker shrugged lightly, he wasn't much for necessities. Though, he would need those other knives. He had already slid the one he'd cut the orange with up into his sleeve when she was talking. He clasped his hands together in thought.

"Pack lightly. .Take anything you don't want them to take," he said. "You can bet they'll have their noses in everything you own by noon." He grimaced, another false memory flitting by… Well, maybe this one wasn't. Hard to tell.

Harley looked around to room and at the doorway for a bit as if she was looking for something, but soon looked back at him. "Perhaps… A few clothes and the first-aid kit would suffice. The rest would be useless."

Joker was sort of staring at the ceiling – though he wasn't looking at anything in particular, he was losing himself in thoughts again. He was still paying enough attention to the world around him, though, and her comment didn't go by unnoticed. So his ideas were put on hold and he glances over at her, slightly tilting his head to the side. "You should get rid of your personal identification." It wasn't a suggested as much as an order but she was still new to this and wouldn't get the difference. "Private journals too. They can find out a lot from it." He licked his lips. "Don't put your wardrobe above your own safety. Get some, uh… Some sort of weapon to defend yourself." And kill your enemies while you're at it, he added to himself. She wouldn't be very useful if she couldn't defend herself.

"Right." Harley made a note to remember that. But what sort of "weapon" could she use? She didn't have firearms in the house and she was afraid of having an accident with a kitchen knife. It really made her think and she had quite a few ideas when it really hit her – she was sure she had brought that sledgehammer from her childhood home. Why, exactly, she couldn't remember but she always sort of liked that old tool. But maybe it was too heavy for her. Ah well, it was worth looking for it.

She stood up and headed towards the living room where she had a small closet with several items she had never found space for. Perhaps she'd find what she was looking for in there. "If you're tired you can go to sleep wherever you'd like." She would probably for a long time during the night so if he wanted to sleep in, say, her bed, it wouldn't bother her – not that it would bother her if she was that tired, of course.

He slipped off the counter, looking her way for a long moment as she dug through old belongings. He took this opportunity to pocket and stow several other knives in his coat. He let out a comfortable little sigh as the familiar weight of weaponry made him relax a bit. He drummed his fingers on the counter a little more, humming along. He still felt rather jittery…Impatient. About Bats, mostly.

Tonight had been much too fun. How was he supposed to sleep? Especially since it would be with someone else in the apartment. He didn't like the idea of sleeping around others, despite that he managed to remain remarkably alert. He walked into the living room and leaned against the couch, watching her.

Eventually, under a luggage bag and some clothing, Harley found the implement. She pulled it out, surprised she was strong enough to lift it so easily.

"I've got this…" she said, spinning around with the weapon gripped in her fingers.

Joke smiled, showing his teeth. Was she really suggesting using a sledgehammer? Oh, she was a lucky catch indeed. He could tell by the way she was holding it that she'd know how to use it too.

"That'll do fine," he agreed with a dark giggle. So much more style than bullets. A devastating and powerful instrument…Exactly what she was becoming to him.

Harley smiled brightly; a part of her was expecting him to tell her no for this or that reason but he hadn't and it made her feel so much better to have done something he liked. It should have been the other way, really: she should be happy that he was progressing; she was supposed to be his doctor, after all. But no, she wasn't even thinking of that. Things were starting to change, though she wasn't quite aware of it.

She put the tool against the wall and after finding a good messenger bag (she was actually about to pick a large purse, but decided against it) she nearly ran towards the bedroom. It was all the excitement getting to her. Once there she opened her closet and started looking through her clothes. Only now did she realize how most of the clothes consisted of suits she usually wore for work. She shook her head at those and went for the more casual. She took out a few clothes she thought would be practical – and coincidentally were in similar colours to the ones she wore now - and put them inside the bag. She looked around for a few more things and the whole process might have taken her over half an hour. In the end, Harley decided against taking some of the things she had previously chosen and in the end the bag was surprisingly light though she insisted that she had everything she thought was necessary.

Some time after she had first entered the room, Joker had followed, watching her as he leaned against the wall. He didn't say a thing, he simply watched – and had she not been so busy, she might have even found his stare somewhat uncomfortable. When she was done – and he had to admit, she was a surprisingly practical woman; he was afraid she might have wanted to bring half her household along - and ready to leave the bag in the other room next to the sledgehammer, he finally reminded her.

"Burn your identification and personal information."

Harley stopped moving and looked over at him. "Everything?"

He frowned. "Well, unless you want them to know everything about you and get as clue as to where we may be… They really know how to work, you know, especially if Bats is helping them."

Oh, right. She had almost forgotten about that detail. Batman really seemed to know how to do his job. "Okay, consider it done puddin'." Her eyes widened considerably and she quickly covered her mouth after speaking. What had she just called him? It wasn't intentional - and it made her feel a bit embarrassed. "Sorry…"

His slightly amused look fell considerably at the nickname. He didn't like the idea of pet names, not like that. He quickly made up the ground between them with his swaying steps, and with scarcely another thought, his hand was brought up.

And quickly brought down again, backhanding Harley across the cheek. Before she even knew what was going on, she was reeling backwards.

"Don't call me…." he barked. Calm down, Joke. She did, after all, apologize for it after. And he couldn't hurt her too badly. His other hand, which was gripping a knife inside his jacket, slowly let it go and let his hands rest. They would need to leave soon; he couldn't have her injured. Her hand moved up, lightly touching her swelling cheek.

She hadn't really expected him to like being called that. Someone who had been through what he had would certainly have a problem accepting affection. He cracked a smile and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. But look, he was calming down. And it hadn't hurt her really.. Just stung and surprised her a little.

"Well. Now that's sorted out. Burn everything.. Birth certificates, licenses, photographs." He said. Photos always burned so well. He walked over and stepped over the back of the sofa, landing on his back on the cushions. He wasn't sleepy, per se. He folded his arms behind his head and stared intently at the ceiling, thinking of things to come in an idle fashion.

Harley peered over the back of the couch at him.

"I'll get you a pillow and blanket… But you can sleep in my room if you'd prefer," she told him.

He didn't answer right away and she didn't dare repeat herself or ask if he was listening to her – a pet name had been enough to make him lose it, if she pushed it, who knows how he might feel… She cringed at the memory of being told the story behind his scars earlier that night. It made her insides turn upside-down.

He never did answer her. Perhaps he was starting to fall asleep and the couch was fine? That's what Harley thought – not that it was necessarily the whole truth. She went to her room and got a nice pillow and a warm blanket with which she returned. She handed him the pillow and again, it took him a while to react to that though when he did, he had to hold back the sudden urge to asphyxiate her with it. In turn, she only smiled slightly and covered him with the blanket like he was just a little boy. "Get some rest."

"You get some rest." He told her, his eyes still set on the ceiling. He made sure to emphasize the 'you'. He was far too used to sleepless nights and even if he did fall asleep, he would be up early without the need of an alarm clock. She, however, he was not so sure of. Then again he didn't know if her sleeping patterns were healthy or not.

Harley just nodded and turned back towards her room. "Well… Good night."

He didn't speak. She didn't really mind anyway.


	5. Pet Name

Dawn was painting the skies over the city of Gotham an eerie blue-grey, and early risers were stirring out of warm beds to begin their pointless nine-to-five jobs. Joker was already awake. He looked in the mirror, smiling at the reflection. He found the make-up, his own mask, tucked safely away in a pocket of his purple jacket. His face was ghostly, eyes blackened shadows…and his smile was a bright red.

He giggled at his reflection for another moment before he left the washroom. He had managed to catch a bit of sleep, though he felt too restless to get much. He had snooped around through her things, tossing anything of relevance into the sink and lighting them on fire. No paper trail, that took the mystery out.

He hadn't found any family pictures or anything. Which made it all the easier for him, granted. But it piqued his curiosity about the strange girl. Before she'd got involved with him, she had been all school and work, that much had shown through her home. She was boring… But she, she had so much potential! She could be greater than those normal blind civilians. He got worked up at the possibilities with her, a hand running lightly along his new favorite knife as he stalked over to her door.

"Har..ley…" he called, smacking his lips as he slapped his hand against the door.

Harley woke up with a start once the sound reached her ears. She sat up on the bed, sheets pushed aside almost immediately, and looked at him wide-eyed while trying to catch her breath. She had not expected to sleep this much; in fact, the girl had not expected to sleep at all but she had fallen asleep almost instantly after going to bed. For a moment she had barely recognized him with that make-up and terror crept up her spine – and even when she was finally ware of her surroundings, that face was still somewhat… frightening. She had seen photos, but it wasn't the same as seeing him standing there. And she kind of wanted to be like him, now.

It took her a while to finally stand up manage to say something half coherent; a mumbled "morning". She was wearing the same clothes she had worn the previous night, far too busy with her own thoughts to even bother to change into something else. Joker did not care; it only bought them more time.

"When are we leaving?" Her voice was still low and drowsy and it was almost certain that she would enjoy a few more hours of sleep.

He was well awake by now and only wanted to get the hell out of there before the Arkham staff decided to pay Miss Quinzel a visit.

"As soon as you're ready to go;" He grinned pleasantly, an expression turned twisted with that make up on. His voiced deepened. "Make it quick."

She nodded, giving him a little salute and a giggle. It was nice having someone around, especially someone like him. It made her feel upbeat. "Got it!" She stretched a little, forcing herself to wake up before she dashed passed the other man. She looked the living room over, noting the smell of burnt paper. She could guess fairly easily what it was.

"Thanks.." she told him with a smile as she headed to the hall closet. He nodded and folded his arms, waiting for her to finish checking. "We can't use your car, you know…" he remarked, his head cocked sideways as he watched her dig around in the closet. They would need to acquire a different mode of transportation.

Something with personality. Going through the closet, Harley had remembered why most of her clothing ran red and black. They were her school colors, and somewhere in here she had- Ah. She pulled the tight gymnast uniform down from a hanger and folded it up. "…Yes, I think they would catch on pretty quickly if we didn't."

She figured he didn't want to walk up to a car dealer and buy a new vehicle, whatever he had in mind wasn't legal. But it was what had to be done to keep him… and now her… hidden and safe. She put the uniform in her bag and hoisted it onto her shoulder, easily taking up the sledgehammer as well. "Ready," she said brightly.

Joker was already waiting by the entrance when she said it and opened the door to leave. He didn't care to look around once more before he stepped out of the house, it wasn't his and he had everything he needed; Harley, however, did look back once more before exiting and closing the door one last time. He wondered if she was sad about leaving – and honestly he wouldn't put it past her to feel that way – but quickly dismissed the idea. Her mind was changing at an alarming rate, she'd forget about this place sooner than what anyone could expect.

The walk out of the building was quick and no one seemed to have noticed it. For such a big city, Gotham was still somewhat asleep, the streets were mostly empty and no one who was going to work could be bothered to look twice to figure out whom the heck were the two freaks walking down the street at such a fast pace and disappearing down an alley. From there, it was a maze but it was like the Joker new every single corner and when they finally reached the area he had been moving towards all along, she realized two things. One, it was a parking lot. Two, it was a parking lot used on a daily basis and it was completely deserted.

She smiled like an idiot. He smirked as he pulled her along rows of vehicles and eventually settled for one that seemed to be used commonly nowadays. But he didn't try to get into the car and instead stood silent. Harley watched him curiously until his gaze shifted to a figure walking towards them. Fancy businessman, young and probably still single, holding his fancy suitcase and car keys, ready to go to work. Next minute she knew, the businessman had gotten a bit too close to their personal space and was falling flat on the ground with a very big smile on his face. And she was stopped in time, in her own little world until she felt someone grabbing her by the forearm and there she was, sitting in the passenger's seat with the Joker starting the car. And a body in the trunk.

"You shouldn't have." She told him, frowning. But it wasn't nearly as gruesome as it should have been.

"I'm sorry, Harley." He licked his lips. No, he wasn't sorry at all, not that she would know any better. "I won't do it again." And of course he would, plenty of times. Some more social experiments would be nice… But killing off the kind that isn't worth it could be just as good for the time being.

He was remorseful, even apologizing. How could she possibly condemn him for that. As they drove down the rode, at a normal pace, she leaned over and gave him a quick hug. She wouldn't abandon him for that like the others. He was sick, and she would help.

Besides. They absolutely had to have the car. He would have just called the police if he'd have seen them. It was a necessary act. His eyes darted to look at her as she gave him an embrace across the car. His hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel.

"Thanks," he murmured, stretching a smile and staring back at the road ahead. It had felt too good.

Killing again; not the hug. The feel of a blade slipping through flesh. Skin, muscle…touching bone. It was more familiar than anything else. But the best part would have to wait. The part where some other boring person found the body. They panic, and call the police. The police would panic, try not to get the media involved, which the media would see a reason to be more involved.

Then details about the crime would leak and send the city into a little panic. Instead of typesetting in his cubicle all day all of his life, the nameless businessman would be making a difference in Gotham. It felt lovely making useless people worth something. Harley had set back in her seat to stare at the road ahead again, trying not to over think the body in the trunk, when he reached over and patted her on the shoulder. She grinned and moved a bit closer to him in her seat.

"You're welcome, Joke….." Well, that wouldn't do. Calling him 'Joker' all the time. "Mr. J." She finished, hoping he wouldn't mind.

The Clown Prince frowned but she couldn't have possibly noticed. 'Mr. J', was it? That was a rather interesting nickname, to say the least. Not the best, but at least she wouldn't have to refer to him as 'you' or 'Joker' all of the time. Not that there was any problem with the latter, it was what he preferred. But in a way Harley did deserve to call him something which she might consider – heavens forbid – more personal. In the end, he just cracked a big smile at her and kept driving in silence.


	6. Little Help from My Friends

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In all honesty, Harley was surprised that he hadn't minded. For a moment there she had almost felt her head hit against the glass window ... But it was just her imagination; instead all she saw was a smile and it was just so nice that she had to smile back.

A pleasant sort of silence settled in the vehicle and soon, Harley was dozing off. Joker took the chance to lose himself in thought; the first meeting with the Batman wasn't entirely how he had expected it - he had been too quick to lose his temper - and he couldn't just pick another fist fight with the Dark Knight out of shape. No, no this had to be better that the last time or it wouldn't be any fun at all! But thankfully, he was creative and now Harley was here... Sweet, innocent Harley who had snapped precisely when he had expected her to; she would be of great use in a not so distant future. He stopped the car not too far from a small playground. The area was empty and the little boys and girls were probably still asleep, holding their teddy bears and dolls tight until mommy and daddy decided it was time to wake up. Perfect.

Harley was so lost in her little dream world that she didn't wake up when he stopped the car this first time or when the trunk was shut rather forcefully or even moments later when he got into the car and drove off as quickly as possible. The kids would have one hell of a surprise when they saw the smiling young man waiting for them atop the plastic and wooden slide with a playing card on his left palm. Batman would know about it too. It was perhaps an hour after they had left the house that Joker decided to stop the car and wake Harley up. They were in an old area of town - but not the same as the previous night. Several buildings housed rodents (not the flying kind) and bugs but no other life forms such as, say, humans. But in one specifically, he recalled, there was an apartment he had used as hideout for a few weeks. It would be good for now.

He took one look at the girl's sleeping form and for a moment he was confused as to how exactly he should wake her up right then - with anyone else he might have delivered a punch or hit their head against something, but that wasn't exactly a confidence boost for his harlequin now was it? He smacked his lips and eventually decided to just shake her arm a bit; for a split second he sort of wanted to rip it off but ultimately repressed the urge to do so.

Harley blinked awake without even knowing she had dozed off. She became aware that Joke was shaking her lightly, and that the car had stopped. "Hnn..." She sat up and moved to get out of the car. "Sorry, didn't even know I fell asleep," she said with a sheepish smile. But he didn't look upset.

Joke didn't mind, mostly because it ensured a quiet ride and few objections at his ...disposal of the body.

"We'll be staying here for a little while.." he commented, ignoring her apology as he got out of the car. 'We'll' was an interesting concept to someone who didn't habitually bring 'guests' to places he stayed when he wasn't working.

But he had Harley so tightly in his fist he wasn't the least bit concerned about that. Harley followed him out and looked at her surroundings with a bit of a frown. Another run-down hide-out. It was so sad that this was his life. Even out of Arkham's walls he couldn't really be free. This time would be different though.

He'd have someone to help keep the gloom out of the dusty cobwebbed corners here. "Well," she said, bounding behind him brightly. "What are we waiting for? Let's see the new home," she said with a grin, trying to lighten the darkness of the dilapidated area.

He was starting to get used to this side of her personality. Of course, Harleen Quinzel had never seemed - to him at least - all that professional and all that serious; she always seemed a bit too naïve. But he did not expect for her to reveal her true self as such a happy camper - not that it bothered him, but it really was a surprise. But Harley was just that: surprising. He allowed himself into the building and knew she was following just a few steps behind. They went up the stairs, though not to the first or to the last floor - somewhere in-between, actually. Some of the houses on that floor didn't even have a door anymore but not "his" apartment, no; it was one of the few which did have one. And he walked right in, pulling Harley along before he slammed the door shut. And he was very happy to know that no one had stolen the lock he'd installed because he used it to lock the door, just in case.

Harley looked around. It was a small place and there was barely any light in it - and barely any furniture. Things were dilapidated, the wallpaper was peeling away and they were sure to have some little visitors (cockroaches, rats and such). The smell was also kind of nasty. But she wasn't particularly bothered by any it. People often made a connection between vermin and mental decay - one would have to wonder if she was that insane already that she thought of this as a fitting scenario for her life story.

"Sit down." It was him. It wasn't a suggestion as much as an order but she really couldn't tell the difference; she noticed the old couch and decided that it was better to just stand there. So she sat down, ignoring the layers of dust and whatever may be crawling underneath the floorboards. "It's... Nice." She frowned. There wasn't really any words she could find to describe the place. "So what now?"

Well by now some little kiddie had found the smiling business man on their playground. Which was a pleasant thought to him. Was she asking him about a 'plan'? Well, he had a number of them for her... Not for really any of his social experiments, per se, but for the other little games he wanted to play with the Batman. But he couldn't tell her any of those, could he?

"Right now, Harley.." he said, leaning against the same couch she sat on. "We wait. Can't stay hidden away forever," he mused. 'friends'. That's what he needed. He let out a little laugh. Bats thought all of his little acquaintances were locked away. But that wasn't the case, oh no.

Just as Joker knew he could never fully 'get' to the Batman, he knew that the Batman would never be able to get to him either. That would ruin the fun. And what fun they would have. Batman was still upset about the Dawson girl...about Dent. As much as Joke wanted it, a face-to-face with Bats would make it a short lived escape for the Clown Prince of Crime.

"...But we've got to get a few eyes on Batsy. Or we won't be able to move without word getting to him. " A half lie, for now. "Damn it, Alfred," Bruce said as he looked at the television. "He's been out twelve hours and people are dead," he commented with a clenched fist. "Person, sir. So far..." the Butler corrected as he set the tea tray down. Bruce sighed and stared at the cup.

He should be out there.. Looking for anything.. before this got out of control. That psychotic freak, always anticipating what he would do. Though, last night, Joker had done something rather uncharacteristic in lying to him.. bluffing just to get away. That worried Bruce.

He knew just as well as anyone that time in Arkham could change someone, and he doubted that it was for the better in Joker's case. Maybe that was part of the plan. Maybe Joke was laughing away manically somewhere, knowing Batman was off thinking about their encounter. But, at least Joker wouldn't be expecting Bruce Wayne... That was one card Batman still had over the madman.

**a/n**: Reviews and critique are much much much appreciated 3


	7. Waiting is the hardest part

"I need to stop him before he kills anyone else." Silence. He couldn't let the Joker do something as bad as – or worse than – last time. Not only had he murdered innocent people, mocked them in public, but he had tried to destroy all in which Gotham's citizens believe. Gotham's White Knight was led to madness, turned against what he defended. Then Rachel… Bruce stood up and Alfred – who had been just as silent, wondering to himself if young master Wayne knew that he did indeed have limits he shouldn't cross – decided that this was an opportune moment to speak up. "Perhaps you should let the police investigate this first."

"The police won't be of any match for him, Alfred." And they really weren't; not even with their new Commissioner on the job. "But they can collect the evidence that the Batman, as an outlaw, cannot." He was right. But he couldn't wait for the police to finally ask for their Dark Knight's help.

"But how are we supposed to do that?" Because Harley had never gone through this before and she had no idea of what, exactly, she was supposed to do. And it was her one benefit because otherwise Joker could have simply smashed her head against the wall and called her a lousy criminal. Like the Chechen that his henchmen had turned into dog food only months before. "Well that's easy: we find ourselves some friends." There was no long and dramatic pause after his answer. Her next question was automatic.

"What?"

"Friends!" He looked at her with wide-eyes and a small smile and – the "fear inducing" factor aside – his expression seemed to scream 'isn't it obvious?'. He licked his lips and then started the hand gestures as he started pacing around the small room. "Friends, henchmen, clown college drop-outs. Whatever you want to call them, Harley. They can… help us." Harley's mouth formed a small 'o' as she finally realized what he meant. He'd have some connections willing to help out, right? Of course they would think Mr. J was back to causing terror and destruction but that was something they could explain; he is just trying to get better. Joker would have laughed if he knew what she was thinking.

Of course any thug who wanted to find his way into the rogue's gallery wouldn't say no to a big job. And the Joker paid well, yes he did – a nice bullet to the head or a big, big smile depending on how well the job was done. "And where are those… 'Friends' of yours?"

It'd be so easy. Starving ex-mobster would be begging for him to throw them a bone. After he had crippled the mob, far more than Dent or Batman ever could, they would need him. They would hate him, but they needed him. And that was a valuable relationship, because love and hate are fickle things… But necessity is solid. Besides, he couldn't orchestrate all of his schemes alone. He simply needed more than two hands to get things done. And oh what things would be done!

Harley watched as he stalked over to the dirty little window and peered out of it. She couldn't imagine that there was much of a view, honestly. But he was staring so intently, she was just had to be sure. So she stood up and walked across creaky floorboards to stand quietly at his side. He was probably just in deep thought.

It had been a couple hours now. Someone had found the body, the media had heralded his return, and the police had probably denied it.

"We have every reason to believe that the murder was just copy cat crime," Commissioner Gordon said to the room of journalists. Of course it wasn't a copy-cat crime. But he couldn't afford his city to fall into a panic. With a bit of luck, the Batman would have Joker back in Arkham before Gotham caught on. "Rest assured that the force is working on several leads to have the murderer behind bars."

He ignored the barrage of questions that followed his silence, mostly consisting of 'Is it true the Joker escaped from Arkham Asylum last night' and 'There are accounts of the body holding one of the distinct cards he uses' and so forth. He stepped off the podium, looking away from camera flashes, as he and several other officers left the press conference.

"I hope he had better luck with the crime scene that we did…" he muttered, checking his watch. Still early. He'd be counting the minutes to nightfall.

Alfred knew there was no changing Master Wayne's mind.

"I'll lay out the keys then," he remarked, walking back out of the room to leave Bruce to his thoughts.

Bruce took his cup and mechanically drank the tea. He knew Joker would only be found if he wanted to be. The madman could lay low and virtually disappear if he wanted… But he wouldn't do that. Whatever he was planning would be big and flashy, and he knew that Joke wasn't 'hiding' out of fear.


End file.
